Even in the low light of the evening, Orym might notice the flush the lights up Dorian’s face, touched that the halfling would be willing to attend another one of these for no reason, other than he knew Dorian wanted to go.

That Orym would endure something like this just to make him happy was one of the many reasons he so loved this man.

He manages a small shrug in return. “You know I’m happy to help, however I can. I just…wish it didn’t always have to be this way, you know?” His steps slow in their movements as he glances off to the side. “Sometimes…I wonder if maybe I would be more help if I just stayed as Brontë…”